


Icarus: Before and After

by valantha



Series: LJ prompt [15]
Category: Revolution (TV)
Genre: Dual-timeline, F/M, Hot Tub Sex, LJ 60 prompts in 60 days, Post-Season/Series 01 Finale, Pre-Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-21
Updated: 2013-09-21
Packaged: 2017-12-27 06:20:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/975458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/valantha/pseuds/valantha
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Before: Miles and Rachel celebrate in a Jacuzzi.<br/>After: Rachel attempts to reconnect with Miles in a hot spring.<br/>This is for the LJ 60 prompts in 60 days: Hot Springs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Icarus: Before and After

**Author's Note:**

> Author's Note: Some SDCC sizzle-reel spoilers. 
> 
> Thank you to xyber116 for beta'ing this one-shot and helping me with the military details. Any inaccuracies in regards to the military stuff are mine, and not hers.
> 
> I don't own the characters or Revolution; I'm just playing with them for a bit for fun, not profit.

**Before**

Rachel glanced down at her weekend-bag, and then back at Miles. He was keeping his eyes assiduously on the road, and she had to admit there  _was_  a high likelihood of a kamikaze deer leaping out of the woods at them, but there was another reason too. Miles had planned some big weekend away in celebration of their month-a-versary. He wouldn't tell her what he had planned or where they were heading, but Rachel knew something was up. What sort of a guy splurged on a big weekend away after only a month? Not Miles, for certain.

Rachel zoned out watching the Challenger's headlights burn through the early fall vegetation. The underbrush thinned out, and the headlights flashed on a sign 'Dragonfly Inn and Spa.' Rachel's puzzlement only grew.

Miles pulled up to a big old-fashioned farmhouse and Rachel looked around at the inn. She was downright flabbergasted at the snazziness of the place. She'd been expecting a Best Western or something like that 'cause Miles was tired of dodging her roommate, not an upscale spa! She hoped Miles wasn't planning on proposing. It had been a great month, but it had been just a month. She could guess that after seeing war for reals he might want to move fast, but she was only 19, she wasn't ready for  _that_  yet.

Miles parked and got out, and Rachel joined him. The French concierge grabbed their key and led them back outside and across the parking lot to a barn. Rachel could feel her eyebrows creep up. Miles just winked at her.

The dusky man unlocked a side door on the barn, and it opened up into a beautifully rehabbed suite lit in the warm glow of false candles in a horseshoe candelabra. There was a luxurious king-sized bed with satiny-looking midnight blue sheets that contrasted well with the gleaming golden hardwood floors and wood paneling. One wall was made out of slate and had a two-sided fireplace through which Rachel could see an enormous tub. While Rachel was taking in the marvels before her, Miles had discreetly thanked the concierge and palmed the key.

Once the door was closed, Miles tossed his pack onto the bed. The drab, worn olive pack contrasted mightily with the opulent surroundings, as would her utilitarian L.L. Bean weekend-bag. Why were they here?

Miles kicked off his boots and walked into the bathroom, "Hey Rache, check out this tub!"

Rachel set her bag by the foot of the lush bed, taking a moment to stroke the silky comforter – or duvet, whatever the difference was – it was as smooth and crisp as it looked, and made her solvent-dried hands feel coarse and crude in comparison.

Rachel practically sashayed over to the bathroom, noting the plush midnight blue towels embroidered with little iridescent dragonflies. The bathroom floor was tiled in an abstract swirly mosaic, and the huge tub was seated in a marble platform. Rachel sat uneasily on the toilet, attempting to calculate how many hundreds of dollars a night this place was. Something most decidedly was up. Miles complained about paying more than two bucks for a beer, why was he shelling out so much?

Miles pointed out all of the different fancy bubble baths and bath salts that went along with the 5- _million_ -gallon tub, but Rachel was only half listening, fretfully trying to figure out how to let him know that she wasn't ready for such a big commitment yet without ruining the mood.

Miles asked, "Which should we try out first?" Rachel pointed haphazardly to a small purple bottle. Miles immediately began drawing a bath.

Rachel was still mulling over her predicament when Miles asked her, "Why are you still dressed?" Miles was buck-naked, standing proudly over a discarded pile of clothes. Rachel admired his firmly packed, lightly haired chest and suppressed a juvenile giggle; penises were so weird, especially when semi-flaccid, even as fine a specimen as Miles'. Not that she'd seen a lot to compare it to. She untied her Keds and tossed them out to the main room, they were swiftly followed by her socks and shirt.

Miles leapt in to "assist" her. He bestowed feather-soft kisses all over her shoulders as he removed her bra. His kisses sent delightful shivers down to her core, but he hardly expedited the process. Rachel lost herself to the moment, savoring the feel of Miles' lips exploring her body and the  _warm_  tile beneath her feet. There must be some radiant heating system to keep the floor warm. Rachel shook herself, and purposefully turned off her brain, allowing herself to float on a wave of sensation until she found herself engulfed in a warm lavender-scented Jacuzzi-tub. Yes, there were  _also_  water jets!

Miles slid in with her, and she began rubbing the sudsy water over his chest and shoulders, paying special care to his Eagle, Globe, and Anchor tattoo. He grinned and blew a raspberry at her; in retaliation, she splashed some of the water at his chest. Miles grabbed her hips and swung her around to just lie against him. Rachel rested against his warm, sudsy chest and breathed in the lavender- and Miles-scented air. After a few minutes, she grew bored and began minutely examining the vast array of bath supplies. There was a bottle of a salon-brand shampoo that promised extra body, which looked interesting. Rachel sat up to grab it and examine it more closely; Miles grunted in displeasure.

Rachel held up the bottle and cocked one eyebrow. A small grin bloomed on Miles' face and he held out his hand. Rachel poured out a generous dollop and turned around. Miles began to work the shampoo into her hair, his thick calloused fingers massaging her scalp.

Rachel closed her eyes to better focus on the exquisite sensations, she didn't think the scalp had more nerves per square centimeter than average, but this was heavenly. She let out a moan. Miles chuckled softly.

"Hmmm?" Rachel inquired.

Miles retorted, a grin evident in his voice, "This wasn't exactly  _how_  I imagined making you moan tonight."

Rachel debated whether or not to open her eyes and decided on the later. "The night is still young," she said with a smile.

Miles didn't respond, and his hands just rested, unmoving in her hair, so she opened her eyes and turned around to check on him. His pupils were dilated and eyes semi-lidded with desire.  _So, nothing new._

Miles noticed her watching him, and he smirked, gesturing with one finger for her to turn around. She complied with a small grin. Miles recommenced washing her hair. Once he thought her hair was clean, he carefully rinsed the shampoo out of her hair using palmfuls of water. Rachel let out a contented sigh and dunked her head under the water to rinse off the rest of the shampoo.

When she emerged from the water, and knuckled the water out of her eyes, she saw Miles. He had an unbelievably endearing look of slightly puzzled rapture on his face – like he didn't know what he had done to deserve this. Really it was her that should be grateful – how many guys would wash their girls' hair before gettin' laid? Rachel slicked the water out of her hair, young firm breasts cresting above the foam, and pounced; their lips locked. She splashed some water over the side in her eagerness.  _Oh well._

Miles ran his hands down her slick wet back, and she kneaded his shoulders in time with his probing tongue. She moved her hands up to play with his wet hair, which had grown out in the past few weeks enough to play with from his "high and tight" haircut. Miles' hands moved lower, cupping her ass and scooting her closer. Rachel – aided by the slick tub – slid over, splashing more sudsy water over the side. She wrapped her legs around Miles, his engorged penis teasing at her folds.

Miles moaned into her mouth, and as she grinded against him, his moans got louder. Miles ran his hands along her back and rested them on her shoulders. He applied a bit of pressure to still her. Rachel glanced at him, with a touch of perplexity.

"Lemme go get a condom," he said.

Rachel patted his forearm, "It's okay."

It was now Miles' turn to be confused, she continued, "I started the pill a few weeks ago; we're safe, unless there's something you need to tell me?"

Miles blushed and shook his head. Rachel gave him a small smile and Miles hungrily kissed her, devoured her, words never being his strong suit. But that was okay, Rachel understood. She returned his kisses fiercely; she glided her hands along his shoulders and sides, tracing small scars here and there. She grinded, teasing them a few more times before finally guiding him in. The water – aided by the detergent properties of the bubble bath – left her clean and  _dry,_ but she savored the sensation of him, no separation, no barrier.

The unfamiliar feeling of skin rubbing – almost grating – against skin as she rode him drove her to her zenith almost painfully quickly. As she came, she clenched down on him, her fingernails digging into his shoulders, holding him close. He came with her, and as they resituated to ride out the aftershocks, she noticed the water level was significantly lower than it had been. A quick glance at the bathroom floor confirmed her hypothesis; they had, in fact, made a  _huge_  mess. She giggled.

"Hmmm?" asked Miles.

"We made a huge mess in here," was her reply, he was silent.

After a long pause she inquired, "Miles?"

"Hmmm," Mile responded noncommittally.

"Why did you do this? Why did you get this amazing suite?" she asked, eyes locked inquiringly.

Miles broke off eye contact, and rubbed the nape of his neck, looking nothing more than a sticky-fingered boy being interrogated about the location of some missing cookies, "Well, umm…"

Rachel just waited, expectantly, in the cooling water.

Miles broke, "I'm going back next week."

Rachel was confused, "Back?"

"Back to base; back," he said. "My leave is over, and I'm due back at base Tuesday."

"What?" Rachel was still confused, "You said you had just finished a tour in Iraq. I thought you were  _done_. Out, whatever. I thought that 'once a Marine, always a Marine,' was just a saying."

"Well…"

"Yeah?"

"I  _did_  just finish a nine-month tour in Iraq, but I'm not done. Bass and I, we're enlisted for four years, at least."

"Oh."

"It's not my fault that you heard 'finished a tour in a Iraq' and thought I was done."

"When were you going to correct my misapprehension?"

"Sunday morning."

"Oh." The only thing Rachel could hear was the steady drip of water trickling down the side of the tub and her heartbeat, her mind was fixated upon those two words. Sunday morning.

"I've been  _trying_  for the past two weeks, but I just couldn't."

"Oh." This whole time, Miles knew he was only gonna be here for a month, and he didn't breathe a word about it. Not a word.

"Are you gonna say anything but 'Oh'?"

"Just, just, give me a minute." Rachel said. Minutes passed, the water grew cool, and Miles grew antsy. He popped the lid off of a bottle and then put it back on only to pop it off again.

Rachel stood up and stepped out of the tub onto the sopping floor. She grabbed one of the plush towels – it really was as soft as it looked – and wrapped it around herself.

Miles looked up at her, his brown eyes faintly damp and puppy-dog-esque.

"Why didn't you correct me when I was making an ass out of myself asking you and Bass what you were gonna do with yourselves now?"

Miles shrugged.

"I don't get it.  _Why_  didn't you tell me?" she asked.

Another shrug.

"Please try to help me understand!"

He just  _shrugged._

Rachel huffed, and then figured she'd only have this one chance to say this, "I think you are so intuitive and street-smart, you would do so well in so many professions, why do you insist on  _this_? I think you're gonna come home in a body bag someday."

Miles' eyes went from puppy-dog to dangerously cold in a matter of seconds, "You need to think less." He bolted out of the tub, grabbed a towel, and stormed into the other room.

Rachel was annoyed and a bit bewildered, and set about mopping up their mess. Rachel didn't know what they'd do tomorrow and Sunday, 'cause they certainly shouldn't waste the money Miles had spent on this elaborate Goodbye Weekend, but she did know, once this was over, she was done with Miles and his type for good. Taciturn, mysterious, and hot was for teenagers, she was almost 20.

Little did she know, but five months later she'd meet and start falling for Ben, her TA,  _and_  Miles' brother.

* * *

  **After**

Dusk was rapidly approaching as Rachel, Charlie, Miles, and Aaron were walking down a pitted ancient road. They were heading south. Away.

"What's that Miles?" asked Charlie. She was pointing to a rusted, off-kilter sign proclaiming 'Desert Mountain Hot Springs: A place to soak, a place to relax.'

Miles nodded once and turned down the dirt road the sign pointed to. It wasn't Rachel's place to question, but she wondered if a tourist trap was really the best place to spend the night.

Maybe two miles down the road they found a small glass-and-log lodge with steaming rising from a fenced yard. Miles nodded at Charlie and then at the lodge, clearly indicating that she should scout it while he scouted the surrounding area. Though they  _had_  been together months, it still surprised Rachel how well her daughter and Miles communicated. She and Miles never spoke the same language, then again, neither did she and Charlie.

Charlie glided through the open atrium – most of the glass had broken at some earlier point in time. Miles skated through the gathering shadows until his form was lost among them, leaving Aaron and Rachel sitting on their thumbs in the small gravel parking lot.

A few minutes later, Charlie returned saying, "It's safe Aaron." She was still pretending that Rachel didn't exist. This silent-treatment phase was perfectly normal developmentally speaking for a 7-year-old, but not a 20-year-old. Rachel tried telling herself that they had all been through a tough week since The Tower, but she really just wanted to shake some sense into Charlie.

They followed Charlie into the lodge and she said, "The men's changing room is the most secure. We should sleep there tonight."

Aaron and Rachel nodded tiredly. They followed her through the trashed remains of a front desk to the clearly marked changing room. Once they were settled on the wooden slatted benches, Rachel pulled out a waxed paper bag of jerky and tossed a stick to Charlie and Aaron before putting it away.

"You really should eat something," said Aaron.

"Yeah, this hunger strike of yours isn't getting you anywhere," continued Charlie. Well, she was  _finally_  speaking to her.  _That was something._

Rachel curled up upon herself and didn't reply. It wasn't a hunger strike, she just wasn't hungry, and she couldn't force down food that the others could use. Fifteen minutes later, Miles returned and announced, "The area is safe. No signs of militia, or anyone else for that matter."

Some of the tension leached out of the room.

"If you guys want to check out the hot springs, it seems safe and the water's hot," he continued.

Charlie nodded enthusiastically and Aaron quipped about needing to wash half of the Plains Nations off of himself. Miles inquired, "Rachel?"

She shook her head. What was the use? She'd just get dirty again.

Miles set up a rotation. Charlie left and returned smelling of hydrogen sulfide and she grinned softly at Miles before conking out. Aaron left and returned. He exclaimed that the hot spring had taken a thousand miles off of his feet and he promptly fell asleep. Rachel wondered if the spring was emitting some noxious gas that was making them fall asleep, or if it was just the fact that they so rarely were warm and clean.

Miles left to take his turn, and Charlie muttered softly in her sleep, "No. No. Not Philadelphia."

Rachel's stomach clenched. It was her fault her daughter was having nightmares about destroying the world. If she had just left well enough alone, if she had ever learned not to fly so high, her daughter would be safe and normal, and Rachel herself wouldn't be tumbling uncontrollably out of orbit, doomed to freeze to death. Well, there was one person Rachel knew always burned hot – Miles. Maybe she could get close enough to his gravitational well; maybe he could end her free-fall.

The thought was parent to the deed, and Rachel slid off of the bench and padded out of the changing room. She stood at the lodge's exit and silently shucked her clothing. She slunk out to the hot spring; the path was made out of inlayed sandstone, and her feet got cold quickly.

Rachel saw Miles float serenely on the hot water, his lean form illumated by the waxing moon. Steam was rising from the concrete pool surrounding the natural hot spring, carrying with it the rotten-eggy stench of H2S, but her olfactory receptors soon became saturated and she stopped noticing the smell.

"Rachel," Miles said neutrally, shocking her out of her reverie, "What are you doing?"

Rachel walked the last few yards to the pool's edge and slipped into the water. It was delightfully hot and the dissolved minerals made her feel extra buoyant. Her older, slightly saggy breasts mounded in the hot mineral water.

"I thought you didn't want to use the hot springs," said Miles.

Rachel swanned her way across the pool before stopping right in front of Miles, "I destroyed the world. Again. Danny's dead. Ben's dead. Charlie despises me. All I have left is this majorly fucked-up 'relationship' we have. Don't fight me on this."

Rachel slid her hands along his shoulders and chest, tracing the uncountable small and numerous larger scars here and there. She took special note of the new ones, the ones she hadn't touched before. Her hands glided beneath the water and began stroking – rousing – Miles' penis.

"Rachel," he said warningly.

Rachel forged ahead heedless. She knew she was playing with a sun, but she needed to feel something. She'd been frozen far too long.

"Rachel," he said, a cold edge of ruthless danger seeped in. Rachel knew this voice, it was The General's voice. Rachel raised her hands and backed away.

"What about Charlie?" he asked, his voice now dripping with rationality.

"What about Charlie?" Rachel retorted angrily, "My daughter hates me, and thinks you hung the fucking stars! Nothing we do here, now, will change that!"

"I don't think this is right," he said soothingly.

"You need to think less," she retorted and sloshed off, she levered herself out of the pool, slopping water out of the spring. She stormed off, unwanted tears streaming silently down her face. She just wanted to recapture that uncomplicated moment of bliss she had felt all those years ago, Miles' bare member pounding against her dry cervix while she rode above him in the lavender-scented water. Wanted to recapture a fragment of how easy life had been then, back when she didn't have a mountainous death toll weighing her down.

Rachel stopped outside the lodge, not wanting to disturb Charlie or Aaron, and crouched in the lee of the building, semi-protected from the faint yet chilling wind. Damn even _summer_ nights were cold in Colorado's desert climate. She sobbed into her hands, failing at getting control over herself.

Rachel could hear the squish of damp feet padding up the sandstone path. She buried her head even deeper in her arms and attempted to stifle her sobs. The squishing stopped, and Rachel could tell by the prickle on the back of her neck – and an increase in local radiant heat – that he was standing there, looking at her.

"You okay?" he asked.

"Oh yes, just dandy," she snarked back. Still he stood there, "I'm  _fine._  I'll be in in a minute." He still wasn't leaving.

"Rache…" he pleaded, and she broke – she just couldn't resist him saying her name like  _that –_  and she looked up at him. His brown eyes were puzzled and he had a moth-eaten towel wrapped around his waist. He must have scavenged it from somewhere in the lodge.

"Really. I'll be fine."

Miles looked skeptical, "What's up Rachel?"

Rachel's mood swung wildly once more; she responded, thoroughly infuriated, "You know exactly what's up, you dick. You know I'm hanging on by a fucking thread and you're refusing to be my touchstone. It must be against the benevolent dictator's code of conduct to sleep with your brother's widow. And that's fine. Far be it for  _me_  to force  _you_  to go against your scruples. What do you  _owe_  me? Nothing." He was silent.

She sagged, anger burnt out, "Go on in. I'll be fine. You must be freezing your balls off out here."

"Rache?"

"Go."

And he left. Rachel stayed outside and watched the twinkling stars gaze down at her. The total lack of light pollution made even the faint curvature of the Milky Way visible. Maybe tumbling through the depths of space far from gravitational sources was okay. She'd have these fine fellows as companions as she froze to death; or maybe she'd luck out and die by explosive decompression.


End file.
